


Five Times Ed Decided Love Was A Lie (and the one time he realised he was wrong)

by Esperata



Category: Gotham (TV)
Genre: Angst, Canon Temporary Character Death, Canonical Character Death, Child Abuse, Hopeful Ending, Internalized Homophobia, M/M, Regret, split personality, talking things out
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-25
Updated: 2019-03-25
Packaged: 2019-11-28 15:15:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 5,533
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18210011
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Esperata/pseuds/Esperata
Summary: A chronological look at the five most important relationships in Edward's life.For the Nygmobblepot week prompt: Fate/Destiny





	1. Mother

Whether he liked it or not Edward couldn’t deny he was shaped by his parents. Even the doctors of Arkham would deduce that his obsessive need to prove himself stemmed from years of facing his father’s derision. It was an easy titbit for him to offer up in their sessions and he had plenty of examples to keep them distracted from digging further. From acing tests, only to be dismissed as a cheater, to displaying skill and intelligence well in advance of his age, just to be beaten for being a freak.

His emotions regarding his mother were more confused and he tried to avoid thinking too much about her. While his father had merely provoked fear and anxiety, with a growing dose of frustration as he grew, his expectations of her had varied over the years. In many ways the instances of softness and kindness made the times of abuse that much worse. All his memories of those happy times were tinged with a sense of foreboding of what he now knew was coming.

As a child he remembered she had doted upon him and read to him every day. By the time he was old enough to truly understand and remember she was reading him adult books. The first time she asked him to read to her he thought it was a sign that he was gaining the appreciation he would come to crave ever more over the years. But as the occasions became more regular, rather than reinforcing his value, the feeling became gradually more elusive as her focus on him diminished until he may as well have been reading to himself.

She would call him in, hand him her chosen book, and then drape herself on the couch. Ed learnt to convey the synopsis and then wait for his mother’s response. His hopes of any interest in his reading dwindled over time until he eventually began ignoring the verbal content of her answer. It was invariably the same.

He grew to recognise that her attention had never been on him. His birth was only to fulfil her wish to bind his father to her. While she appreciated having a baby utterly dependant on her, that was less and less true as he grew. As did his father’s interest as Edward proved to be not the son he hoped for. And so, instead of appreciating the child she did have, she used him as a reluctant ear for her grievances against her husband.

Edward would have loved to be her confidante against his father but he quickly learnt that if he agreed or spoke out himself he would earn her ire. She would go from deceptively sleepy to ferocious fury in a heartbeat and beat him for being a vile ingrate.

So he held his tongue and listened. He listened as she spoke of how perfect their courtship had been. How he had romanced her. The devoted attention that had been paid to her. This then devolved into complaints of how she was now ignored. Plaintive queries of what the harlots he chased every night had to offer that she didn’t – sometimes finishing with the conclusion that it was the fact she had a whiny, weedy brat clinging to her and they didn’t.

Mostly it merely preluded a lecture to Ed on how he should behave. The importance upon him to find a woman and devote his life to her. His mother daily told him the way it was meant to be. The only way the world could continue to operate as it should. A man to provide for and protect a woman who in turn would raise their children and keep house.

Eventually her spiel would deteriorate into a tearful lament on how she’d done everything expected of her before the drink would leave her comatose and Ed would be free to read uninterrupted. If he’d had the freedom of other children he might have had video games or his own books. As it was he diligently read what she’d asked, partly because if she woke to find he wasn’t – or worse that he’d left – then his punishment would be severe.

The books only ever served to reinforce his mother’s arguments. Romances of handsome heroes rescuing fair maidens from their lives of cruelty. On occasion Ed would find himself imagining himself in the place of the women, daydreaming of an elusive rescue from his life. But then he’d mentally shake himself. He needed to mould himself into the kind of man in the stories. Someone bold, clever and willing to do anything to protect his beloved. If he was that sort of man then he couldn’t fail because fate would be on his side. That was how things worked. Fate was the presiding influence in every tale. The hero was always destined to win so the key point was to make sure he was positioned as the hero and then everything would fall into place.

Once the idea lodged in his mind he was quick to focus on the plan. Everything in his life would be perfect if he could just fulfil the necessary criteria for fate to come into play. So, as soon as he left home to start his independent life, he deliberately started sweeping his past under the carpet. He conjured a new identity for himself to aim towards. Someone better and stronger.

Which meant all he needed to find was his very own damsel in distress for his dream to be complete.


	2. Kristen

The drive out to the woods gave Edward a much needed opportunity to think and reassess his current life gaols. It was not overstating things to state that events had not gone to plan and yet everything had appeared to be going so well.

He had done exactly what a good hero should do. Hadn’t he diligently courted her? Given her confectionery? Playful word plays? Looked for ways to make her life easier? Of course none of that had done him much good until he’d focused on the real issue blighting her life.

In hindsight he should have realised he needed to prove himself against his rival sooner. Once that brute was dispatched the pieces had all aligned. She’d dated him. She’d kissed him. She’d slept with him. He’d thought she loved him.

So how had they ended up here, with him driving her cut up corpse into the woods for an impromptu picnic and burial?

He thought back on the scene. It had seemed to him that they were connected. Kristen had appeared dutifully doting as he explained how he had confronted Dougherty. Right up until the moment he confessed to killing him. Then she’d _laughed._

She’d laughed at him! As if she couldn’t believe Ed was capable of defending her. And so naturally he’d had to prove it. Show her that he was serious in his commitment to her. That he was willing to do whatever it took to protect her.

“But did you appreciate it?” he snapped over his shoulder in the direction of the trunk. “No. You called me sick. A psychopath. A _freak_! That was _not_ how it was supposed to go. Why couldn’t you just stick to the script? This would never have happened if you’d loved me like you were meant to. This is _your_ fault.”

He took a sudden deep breath and forced his anger back down. It was no good yelling about it now. She had not fulfilled his expectations it was true but was it entirely her fault? He rewound his memories to the instant when the dream had started to fracture. Kristen had not believed him when he’d announced his defence of her. Didn’t that suggest he hadn’t done enough to reinvent himself?

What was it she’d said before? To Doctor Thompkins? That he was too nice, that was it. While obviously he had made strides in disproving that particular notion the problem was, those proofs weren’t anything he could advertise. He needed to develop a reputation of respect. An aura of power. So people would stop and look twice when they saw him, unsure of how far he’d go.

He caught sight of himself in the mirror and instinctively glanced away. It was not a face that commanded attention. Nor were his proportions designed to intimidate. Limbs too long, chest too narrow, smile too wide. He was hardly a paragon like saint Jim Gordon.

His fingers started a thoughtful drumming as his mind presented a puzzling paradox for his inspection. The Penguin. There was a man not gifted by nature or fortune with an intimidating stature and yet his mere presence could still a room. Nothing about the man – from his name to his fragile physique – fit the stereotype of a crime lord but still he was indisputably making his mark on Gotham’s underworld.

Ed recalled his own brief meeting with Oswald Cobblepot. It had been an irresistible impulse on his part to approach. He had no valid reason for doing so and he wondered now if part of him had been fascinated even then by the easy confidence the smaller man exuded so casually.

The first thing that had struck him up close had been the intensity of his gaze. It was a look that brooked no arguments or disrespect while still being calculating and intelligent. Ed feared in his heart that he’d never quite pull off that level of untouchability though he was drawn to it like a magnet. He wondered how the Penguin managed it. By all accounts the man had been put through a lot after turning on Fish Mooney. How could he still feel the confidence in himself to breeze into the GCPD with an invite for Jim Gordon?

The thought of Gordon snapped Ed out of his recollections of glittering eyes and a scathing tongue behind smiling lips. Detective Gordon might prove to be a problem for him in the not too distant future. The man hadn’t appeared too bothered about Tom Dougherty’s disappearance – and Ed couldn’t help but smirk at the easy deception he’d pulled there – but covering up for Kristen might raise a few more eyebrows.

He spotted his chosen stopping point ahead and sighed.

“You are putting me to a lot of trouble,” he chided her gently. It seemed merely a shame to him now that she had not appreciated his efforts when she was alive. He had a lot of love to give to the right person so it really was her loss.

“I guess you and I just weren’t meant to be,” he told her regretfully as he finally pulled the car to a stop. “But every cloud has a silver lining.”

He smiled. He was nothing if not an optimist. If this relationship didn’t work out then it was for a reason. It just meant he was better prepared for next time. And fate was bound to have someone perfect lined up for him.


	3. Oswald

No-one had ever looked at Edward the way Oswald looked at him. It was a look that always made him feel special. Feel noticed. Feel _seen_. He treasured the relationship they had but had never thought to question just why Oswald would be looking at him that way. Not until Barbara Kean, in her oh so subtle way, pointed it out.

At which point every foundation in his world collapsed under him.

_“Don’t tell me you never thought about it,”_ Riddler commented bluntly.

“What? No! Of course not! He’s my friend.”

_“Your attractive friend. Pale, delicate and with those eyes you were always so fascinated by.”_

“Noticing a person’s attractive features is merely being observant.”

_“What about idolising them like one of the heroes from those cheesy romance novels? Riding to your rescue from Arkham. Bringing you home to his castle.”_

“It’s a house not a castle,” Ed corrected automatically. “A grand house admittedly. More like a manor. Or possibly a mansion.”

In the mirror’s reflection Riddler smirked at him.

“But that isn’t the point.” Ed refocused. “I am grateful to Oswald, nothing more. I have never been interested in an intimate relationship with a man. Besides he can’t be in love with me,” he added with more confidence. “The idea is absurd.”

Suddenly Riddler was whispering right against his ear causing Ed to flinch.

_“You’d like him to be though. Your little bird.”_ The reflection shifted into a copy of Edward only from a prior time. A living memory. _“Oswald. I would do anything for you.”_

“No!” Ed shut his eyes and clasped his hands over his ears despite the projection being from his own head. “I can’t!”

_“Can’t?”_ Riddler’s tone was genuinely curious and Ed couldn’t resist answering it.

“If its true,” he swallowed. “If he loves me, then he killed Isabella. And I’ll have to kill him. He’s my best friend! I don’t want to kill him.”

Riddler backed away but kept his gaze fixed on Ed.

_“Tell me that doesn’t sound like you love him. Our fates have become entwined with his. We rise together, we fall together.”_

Ed shook his head vehemently.

“That would mean our destiny lies with the person we have to kill for murdering our girlfriend. That’s not how fate works.”

_“All I’m saying is we share a lot of history with him. Many weeks and months of sharing our lives. And he sees every part of you, including me, and still stares at you like you’re his whole world.”_

“Isabella saw us! She knew what we’d done and embraced us. She loved me.”

_“So does Oswald! And,”_ Riddler added smugly. _“He’s still alive.”_

“Enough!” Ed took a shuddering breath. “It doesn’t matter anyway because I. Don’t. Love. Him.”

_“Who are you actually trying to convince?”_

Ed ignored the insinuation and straightened himself up.

“I doubt he really loves me anyway.”

_“So you don’t think he killed Isabelle?”_ Riddler managed to look mocking even as he frowned in confusion.

“No. I do. He’s possessive and it would make sense he wouldn’t want me distracted but love? Real love?” Ed scoffed. “Love is sacrifice. If he really loved me then he’d have let me be happy with Isabella.”

Riddler grinned in open amusement.

_“My, you really haven’t been in love before have you? Remind me to introduce you to the real world sometime.”_

“What do you mean?” Ed frowned. “I loved Kristen. And Isabella. If it wasn’t true love why would fate have given me a second chance with her? I would have killed for her. I **will** kill for her.”

_“Pssh,”_ Riddler dismissed the emphatic declaration. _“You’d kill anyway,”_ he pointed out. _“The real question is whether you’d **die** for her.”_

Ed fell silent, unable to stop his mind shifting back to that moment in the Sirens when his careful plan had been disrupted by Tabitha. His instinctive move to protect Oswald as Butch rushed forward. The feeling of hands on his windpipe, his vision going blurry, his breath fading, but the one thought that at least Oswald was safe.

Would he have done the same for Isabella? Taken her place in the car to spare her from that fate?

“Well, I guess we’ll never know now, will we?” he replied stubbornly, fixing his gaze on Riddler who met it with equal obstinacy.

_“I guess not.”_

“If Oswald killed Isabella, then he has to die.”

Riddler finally sighed and backed down.

_“You’ll at least test the facts first?”_ he queried.

“Of course. I want to hear it from his own lips before I condemn him. But if its true, if he made a fool out of me-”

_“A fool out of you? How? By making you the beloved damsel of his tale?”_

“No,” Ed bit out. “By letting me think it was Butch. Bad enough he killed her but then he made it infinitely worse by lying to me.”

_“Only if he killed her. Which you have yet to prove.”_

“And I will. Conclusively this time. I won’t make that mistake again.”

_“And then you’ll kill him.”_ It was not a question but Ed felt compelled to clarify anyway.

“I will break his faith in me as he broke mine in him.”

_“Even though you don’t want to.”_ Riddler shook his head despairingly. _“You are seriously messed up.”_

“It has to be done. I have to avenge her death.”

Riddler let out a sigh.

_“I’ll agree Isabelle got one thing right. Your love life really is a tragedy.”_


	4. Isabella

Solitude was not something Ed had experienced in a long while and he found himself discomforted by it. In the silence of his cell it was even harder to ignore his thoughts than when plagued by disconcerting apparitions.

Of course he was quite familiar with hallucinations, having dealt with his stronger ego for quite some time, but the recent visons had been an altogether different experience. He wished he could dismiss it as a side effect of the drugs but it could hardly be called a side effect if that was the reason he was taking them. That was the whole point of them. And what did that tell him?

‘I admit that killing you killed a part of me.’

That’s what he’d said to the vision of Oswald. The vision that had been born in his mind of being seduced by him. His subconscious clearly had a better grasp on things than his limited focused mind seeking validation from all the wrong sources.

In the quiet of his captivity it was easy to see the part of himself that had died with Oswald was the soul that had been looking for its matching half. He’d found his perfect partner – the one who’d seen his potential, believed in him, loved him to the point that he’d have died for him – and he’d shot him dead.

He banged his head gently but repeatedly against the bars. How could he have been so blind? So stupid? And he was supposed to be proclaiming himself to Gotham as a genius. His head stilled and he grit his teeth. If it hadn’t been made abundantly clear to him before, it was now. He was not destined for love. Perhaps his fate was even worse, to find love only to destroy it.

Although Kristen had never actually loved him. He could see that clearly now compared to Oswald. And Isabella? Had she truly loved him? Had he loved her? It was almost shocking for him to realise how little he’d actually thought about her since seeking vengeance on Oswald for her death.

He turned his mind to her now and with hindsight saw the absurdity as Oswald must have done. Their relationship had taken less than a week. Within twenty four hours of meeting her he’d already been distracted enough to forget his dinner with Oswald. He frowned as he thought of that.

How could it have so completely slipped his mind? He’d been choosing the wine for their meal at the time. He would have known Oswald would panic and yet it hadn’t occurred to him to ring. But then again her startling resemblance to Ms Kringle would have been sufficient to distract anyone.

Which was only another reason to be suspicious. Was it really any wonder that Oswald had been concerned, even without the addition of any feelings? Edward could only marvel that it had taken him this long to question it himself.

Who actually was Isabella? What did he know except the fact she worked in the library? Why was she the spitting image of his dead girlfriend? Was it really appropriate for her to want to turn herself into a duplicate of Kristen?

With everything he’d learned recently, the answers seemed ridiculously obvious. She had to have been a trap. A creation of Doctor Strange’s. Hadn’t he seen himself what that madman was capable of? And the only people who would have the motive to pull off something that devious were his current captors – the Court of Owls.

Probably they’d been threatened by the dynamic power balance of him and Penguin. Their reign had certainly been set to be formidable. Between them they could have ruled both the honest citizens and the underworld. It was clearly a challenge to them they could not ignore. And he’d played right into their plans!

Once again he started hitting his head against the bars. He hadn’t deserved Oswald and he didn’t deserve love.

Taking a deep breath Ed pulled himself together. Dwelling on past mistakes solved nothing – although if he ever met Doctor Strange again then he was going to have some questions about Isabella. Oswald was dead. The Ed who loved him was dead. He was the Riddler now. Ed may have dreamt of love but Riddler only wanted glory and recognition. Those were both things best sought alone and he was already making his name. He didn’t need any distractions from his ambitions.

Surveying his cage once again he reflected that the very fact they had made the effort to capture him showed he was still a possible problem to them. Even without Penguin, Nygma was somebody. He may not be loved but he could be feared. And that was better. Love had brought him nothing but turmoil and pain. It left an aching hole in his heart and the only way to soothe it now was to keep busy. So he would get out of here and then see about unravelling the entire mystery of the Court.

Despite his air of renewed confidence, Ed couldn’t help his pang of disappointment at realising his years of self doubt had been right after all. He wasn’t worthy of anyone’s love. Life gave him one chance at a true love and he blew it. He might wish to give his love but he was doomed to end up giving pain. That was his fate and he best accept it.


	5. Lee

It was one thing to accept that his chance for true love was gone when Oswald was dead, a very different thing when he was alive and out for his own vengeance. Ed wasn’t sure whether to laugh or cry at a universe that would play such a cruel trick. He mostly just felt angry. Angry at Oswald for not declaring his love sooner. Angry at himself for realizing everything too late. And illogically angry too that Oswald no longer loved him when his feelings were finally requited.

Although he couldn’t stay mad over that. How could he? Oswald deserved better than him. That conclusion was only reinforced when he finally slowed down after their frantic game of one-upmanship to find himself stupid. He didn’t even know who he was anymore, how could he expect anyone to love him?

However the knowledge that he had long since blown any chance with Oswald didn’t stop him from longing for him. He physically ached every time he was reminded that Oswald was living quite well and happy without him. Of course he should want that for him – that was what love meant after all – yet at the very least he wanted to know Oswald still thought of him occasionally. If possible with a degree fondness.

There was no doubt in Ed’s mind that Oswald had been his soulmate but destiny – or his own incompetence – had made them star crossed rather than lovers. Which left him the problem of what to do with himself. A strong part of him focused on becoming Riddler again. He tried to not consciously recognize that this was the part of him also hoping to have Oswald see him as an equal again and then maybe, perhaps, even falling in love with him again.

His heart couldn’t cope with acknowledging that dream it was so absurd so most of his conscious mind devoted itself to finding an alternative.

Lee was convenient for that. She did not love him but she was fondly tolerant of him. Of Ed anyway if not Riddler. It gave him an incentive to fight down his more radical impulses. The more like the old Ed Nygma he became the better she liked him and that was comforting. It felt better to stand with her than to suffer his heartache alone.

The problem however couldn’t be more obvious to anyone who truly knew him. Oswald would have pointed it out instantly. It was of course the fact that Ed _was_ the Riddler. They were the same person only occasionally fractured apart so he was effectively fighting himself. Neither were a part taken on as if by an actor that could be left at the stage door. And no attempt to block out the other would ever be successful. They had to be accepted as a unit or not at all.

So Lee’s attempts to rehabilitate him only left him ever more fractured and desperate. Conflicted about how to restore his best self as he wrongly tried to determine which side of him that was. Ultimately though it was her who broke first. The moment she challenged Riddler and turned their interactions into a game of manipulation and bluff she bought them both time.

The game was interesting enough to keep Riddler at her side, briefly giving him unity with Ed. It was nothing to the intoxicating thrill of his dances with Penguin but given circumstances it was more than he could have realistically hoped for. He didn’t actually care whether he or Lee won in the end. What mattered to him was trying to keep one step ahead to prove he could outwit her. It was proof for him that though he might have lost everything else of importance, his intelligence hadn’t been irretrievably lost.

Did that surprising revelation inspire hope in him that perhaps other elements in his life thought gone forever might not be? It was not something he let himself think about. He was at the mercy of fate and she was a cruel mistress. At idle moments he did wonder if death was the destiny for all those he loved. Kristen he strangled, Isabella died because she was a threat, Oswald he shot… would Lee therefore meet a similar end? Maybe even by his hand. It was clear by now, if it hadn’t been before, that Oswald was no longer jealous over him. There would be no murdering of her in a fit of pique, and Ed really shouldn’t feel disappointed by that. Penguin had shown a greater acknowledgment of his trust in Ed – Riddler – though. Surely that meant they need not be enemies always. His foolish heart beat faster just knowing that Oswald thought of him in times of need and he had to stomp down hard on it before it got carried away.

Yet, maybe destiny still had something up her sleeve for him and Oswald. Of those he’d loved, Oswald had not stayed dead. Didn’t that indicate a greater purpose at work? He fervently hoped it didn’t mean they had more to suffer. As he thought on it he decided the best way to deal with capricious fate was to ignore it. Trying to fit her molds and follow her rules had only led him astray. So now he would play his own games.

He would navigate this chessboard with Lee to see who’d come out the victor and he would keep playing cat and mouse with Oswald. As long as he remained prominent in the man’s mind – either as ally or enemy, it didn’t really matter with them – then maybe one day he’d find he’d built a permanent home there.


	6. If Only I Had A Plus One

Oswald sighed as he registered the presence in his office. He carefully replaced the papers on his desk before looking up with a complete lack of surprise at the Riddler.

For a moment he simply stared, taking in the gun levelled at him but not reacting to it, before finally shaking his head.

"I'm sorry," he explained. "I don't remember what I did this time. I wasn't even sure whose turn it was."

Ed opened his mouth to reply but shut it suddenly as he realised he wasn’t sure either. He'd got out of Arkham and just instinctively started plotting against Penguin. It was almost second nature by now and he hadn't stopped to consider where they were at in their tit for tat exchange.

"You don't know either," Oswald realised, sounding sadly resigned rather than amused. "Have we really got to that point? Where neither of us even know why we're doing it?"

That brought Riddler back to his purpose.

"You started it," he reminded the other man, waving the gun for emphasis. "You lied to me. Made a fool of me. You killed Isabelle."

"And haven't I paid for that yet?" Anger finally bubbled up and Penguin pushed himself to his feet. "I was willing to die for you! I took a bullet in retribution. You left me for dead in the river!"

Ed couldn't help but flinch at the reminder. He still occasionally saw hallucinations of Oswald as he had then. Especially when the doctors drugged him up in Arkham.

"Besides," Oswald added, "You're clearly over that if you're getting her name wrong."

“She was not… the woman I thought,” Ed admitted awkwardly.

A cool stare was levelled his way.

“Not the woman you thought?”

“It turns out Isabelle – _Isabella_ – wasn’t a stranger to Indian Hill-”

In a smooth and practiced movement Oswald snatched up a gun from under his desk and aimed it straight at Riddler’s head.

“Do you mean to tell me I practically died because of some experiment of Strange’s sent to… what? Cause a rift between us? I should shoot you where you stand.”

“But its not your turn!” Ed blurted.

“Ed!” Oswald’s eyes were pain filled as he lowered the gun to look clear at him. “This isn’t a game to me! Do you have any idea how much pain you’ve put me through?”

“I’m sorry.”

If he’d hoped the unanticipated apology would soothe the other man he was disappointed. Oswald shook his head despondently.

“You’re still playing with me Ed. Its not fair of you. But then you never could understand. After all, I loved you, but all I ever was to you was a means to an end.”

“That’s not true.”

“Really? Then you didn’t befriend me because you wanted a guide?”

“Okay, that _is_ true but you became more than just a mentor to me Oswald. You _became_ a friend.”

Oswald’s smile was sad still.

“You know I told Martín once that friends would only stab you in the back. I think, given the evidence, I have to stand by that conclusion.”

“I don’t understand what you’re saying.” Edward’s frown amply conveyed his frustration at the situation he found himself in. This wasn’t how their interactions went. Oswald didn’t usually want to talk. “You don’t want us to keep fighting, you don’t want to be friends… what _do_ you want?”

“Everything I wanted for us was destroyed long ago Riddler.” Oswald sat down wearily. “All I want now is for this tiresome dance to end. Either kill me now or leave and don’t darken my door again.”

Riddler raised his gun again but hesitated. Did Oswald really think he wanted to kill him? If Riddler wanted him dead then he’d have been dead long since. Surely the other man felt the same inevitability to their meetings. The pull of destiny that kept them trapped in this cycle of torturous teasing.

Maybe he did need to explain if Penguin really didn’t understand.

Slowly he lowered the gun.

“I’m not going to shoot you.”

The sigh he got in return didn’t sound relieved.

“Then please leave.”

“I’m not going to leave either.”

Oswald looked up with a degree more interest than he’d had before.

“If you’re not here to shoot me then why _are_ you here?”

“Because I missed you,” he replied honestly.

“You missed me,” Oswald repeated in a tone of disbelief.

“You’re right.” Ed moved cautiously and sat in the chair opposite Oswald, laying his gun on the desk across from Penguin’s. “This game has gone on long enough. Its time to do something different.”

“What did you have in mind?”

The fact Oswald was willing to hear him out spoke volumes and Riddler grinned. Perhaps they could draw their circling destinies closer. Maybe they weren’t entirely at the mercy of fate.

“Not enemies, not friends, but perhaps… partners?”

“Business partners?”

“To start with.”

Oswald met his eyes and Ed could see the hesitation in them. The fear of more pain balanced against the indistinguishable hope of something better.

“Riddler…” he trailed off, for once unable to find suitable words.

“We can try can’t we?" Ed pressed. "And when we worked together before it was good wasn’t it?”

“It was,” Oswald agreed warily.

“We’ll be…” Ed paused as he searched for the right word. Not friends, no but, “Conspirators,” he declared with a smile.

Something flickered in Penguin’s eyes at the word choice and an unwitting smile curled at his lips.

“Conspirators,” he repeated, his smile growing by the moment, before he leant closer and met Ed’s sparkling eyes with his own. “My dear Edward, do you believe in fate?”


End file.
